


Luck of the Draw

by hmweasley



Series: The Unlucky [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23924545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/pseuds/hmweasley
Summary: After Severus Snape revealed that Lily was a witch, Petunia wasn't surprised. After all, Lily had been doing magic for years.What she wasn't expecting was to get an invitation to Hogwarts herself. No, she's not a witch like her sister. She's something else: a soulmate. She doesn't understand exactly what that means until she gets there.
Relationships: Petunia Evans Dursley/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Series: The Unlucky [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724608
Comments: 15
Kudos: 67





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoonytheMarauder1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonytheMarauder1/gifts).



> Written for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza using the prompts:
> 
> Narcissa/Petunia  
> soulmate AU  
> angst  
> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://madetofly.tumblr.com) if you'd like.

Petunia had known the Snape boy was telling the truth about Lily being a witch from the moment he uttered the word. There was no denying that there was something odd about her sister. Petunia had noticed what Lily could do before Lily had noticed it herself, and magic was a better explanation than anything else Petunia had come up with over the years.

But that didn’t mean she was happy to learn the truth. The idea of witches—and especially of Lily being one—made her skin crawl. Opening and closing flowers was one thing. What would Lily be capable of after training at that magical school Snape had spoken of? Petunia didn’t want to find out.

If Snape was to be believed, there were a couple of years left before Petunia had to find out. That was why she was alarmed when a stern-looking woman in a pointed witch’s hat showed up on the Evans’ doorstep one Sunday afternoon when Lily was still only nine.

Petunia stared at the woman as her parents—bemused by the woman’s appearance but well-versed in proper etiquette—brought her into their sitting room and offered her tea, which she accepted with the customary thanks. She glanced politely at their decor, her face not betraying much emotion. Petunia shrunk into a corner, doing her best to avoid her attention.

Lily, however, beamed at the woman, inching forward on the sofa until she was about to slide off it, but oddly enough, the woman’s eyes only glanced at her before she sought out Petunia and offered her a tight smile that exuded sympathy. It was a look Petunia never would have expected to receive from such a woman, and it made her want to be smaller.

The woman took a sip of tea before setting her cup down on the coffee table without letting it clank.

“I truly am sorry to arrive unannounced like this,” she said. “A letter would be far more polite, but we’ve found them ineffective for explaining the situation. No one believes without a demonstration.”

“Demonstration?” Mr Evans asked, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders on the sofa across from the woman. “What kind of demonstration do you mean?”

Petunia rolled her eyes. Sure, her parents had yet to meet Severus Snape, let alone hear what the boy had to say, but they couldn’t have missed Lily’s constant displays of magic. Most of them had happened right in front of their faces, yet they kept pretending nothing was happening. If this woman hadn’t appeared, Petunia might have snapped at them before long.

Instead of answering with words, the woman pulled a carved wooden stick from her sleeve and waved it through the air. The tea in her cup rose and twisted itself into various shapes before falling back into the cup without a single drop splashing onto the table.

“I’m a witch,” the woman said, a spark of satisfaction in her eyes at the look of shock on the adults’ faces. “My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I am the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Petunia’s parents shared an uneasy look, but McGonagall’s blatant display of controlled magic had been enough to show them that they could no longer hide from the truth.

“You’re here about Lily,” Mrs. Evans said, reaching for her youngest daughter who sat beside her on the sofa.

Lily, who had been waiting for her moment to shine, leaned into her mother.

“You want her to attend that school of yours,” Mrs. Evans concluded, her voice shaky.

McGonagall let out the smallest of sighs.

“Yes, your youngest is destined to attend, but that’s not why I’m here today. We don’t accept students until the age of eleven. The youngest Miss Evans won’t receive her letter for a couple more years.”

The Evanses shared bewildered looks before the room’s collective gaze turned to Petunia, who sat stock-still in the farthest corner of the room from the woman.

“Petunia?” Mr Evans asked, facing his daughter instead of McGonagall.

He watched Petunia as if he’d never seen her before, and Petunia couldn’t look him in the eye. She certainly didn’t feel magical, and she’d never done anything like what Lily could do. Part of her soared at the idea of having the same powers. Unable to move, she stared at the strange woman who’d invaded their home.

“Your oldest daughter isn’t a witch,” McGonagall said, pushing on as if Petunia hadn’t deflated like a popped balloon. “However, you’re right that I’ve come to offer her a place at Hogwarts.”

“What?” Mrs Evans asked. “If she’s not a witch, why would you want her at your magic school?”

Petunia scowled at McGonagall, though her mother’s question was what actually had her annoyed. Was McGonagall’s offer merely one of pity? Did they think Petunia would be jealous that she couldn’t attend their school for freaks?

McGonagall didn’t look at Petunia as she spoke, focusing instead on her parents.

“Our society is different from Muggle—that is to say non-magical—society in a number of ways,” she explained. “One of those ways is the existence of soulmates or, at least, the confirmed existence of soulmates. Every witch and wizard has one, and they can’t reach their full potential in magic without the other half of their soul.”

Petunia and Lily shared a look, their eyes wide. Their childhoods had included fantasies about true love just like the childhoods of most girls their age. They were still young enough to hope for their own love stories but old enough to be growing sceptical that it would come to fruition.

“Usually,” McGonagall continued, “that soulmate is another witch or wizard, but that is not always the case. Petunia is one of a small group of Muggles who are the soulmate of a witch or wizard.”

She paused to let them digest the information, but no one asked any questions. Petunia couldn’t even look at her parents or sister despite feeling their gaze on her. Her cheeks burned with the knowledge that someone out there was bound to her despite the two of them never having met.

“We always offer Muggle soulmates a place at Hogwarts,” McGonagall said. “It’s the only way their witch or wizard counterpart will reach their full potential.”

In the silence that followed, McGonagall picked up her tea and took another sip, averting her gaze from the stunned family. Eventually, Mr Evans found something to say.

“You want us to send Petunia off to your magic school to allow someone else to reach their potential?”

McGonagall was unsurprised by the line of questioning but still frowned as she sat her cup down on its saucer.

“I understand that letting a child go at such a young age is not an easy thing to do when you aren’t prepared for it, but I can also assure you that Hogwarts offers an excellent education to its Muggle students. Free of charge, it’s worth noting. Your daughter has a magical soulmate, Mr Evans, in addition to a magical sister. Learning about our world from a young age will help her as much as it helps her soulmate.”

She raised her cup again, only to speak with it an inch from her lips.

“Besides, if it doesn’t work out, she’s free to leave at any time. We’re a school, not a prison.”

Mrs Evans opened her mouth to say something, but Petunia cut her off, standing from her place in the corner and stepping forward as she spoke.

“I want to go.”

Everyone turned to look at her. McGonagall and Lily both wore smiles, though Lily’s was much larger. Her parents, on the other hand, kept looking at each other and silently arguing over who should be the one to provide caution.

“Petunia, you’re only eleven, and this is all so unknown,” her mother said, reaching out a hand that Petunia ignored.

“So, you’re going to tell Lily she can’t go in two years?” she snapped.

Mrs Evans cringed and withdrew her hand.

“Sweetheart,” Mr Evans said, “Lily’s situation is different, but we’re not saying you can’t go, only that we should discuss it more first. We need to explore every option.”

“I want to go,” Petunia repeated, her hands balling into fists. “If you let Lily go, you have to let me go. That’s what’s fair.”

Her parents’ expressions were pained, but neither of them voiced opposition.

Petunia turned to McGonagall and swallowed down her nerves.

“I’ll go,” she said.

McGonagall offered her the slightest incline of her head in response.

* * *

Platform 9 ¾ was more overwhelming than Petunia could have imagined before seeing it with her own eyes.

Lily’s face lit up the second she and Petunia went through the barrier together. It was as if something inside her sensed the magic in the air, and it showed in her features. Her entire face glowed.

Petunia just wanted to avoid looking too out of place amongst the witches and wizards that surrounded them. WIthin a few minutes of stepping onto the platform, she’d seen more magic than Lily had performed in her lifetime, and her heart hammered in her chest as she pushed a trolly that held the old-fashioned trunk the school had asked her to bring.

Their parents were right behind the sisters, muttering to themselves about everything around them.

“Severus will be so jealous when I tell him what I saw,” Lily said as they pushed through the crowd. “You should have seen his face when I told him I’d see the train before him, Tuney. I’ll never forget it.”

The ringing in Petunia’s ears and the noise of the crowd drowned out Lily’s excited babbling. Petunia’s eyes darted around the platform, acutely aware that her soulmate was somewhere in the sea of people and capable of things Petunia could only dream of. Never before had she been so thrilled and so terrified at the same time.

After a longer explanation from McGonagall, Petunia had learned that she wouldn’t know the identity of her soulmate until September 2nd. Apparently, they’d be too tired after their journey to the school and the welcome feast to handle any big, life-changing reveals that evening.

Petunia was both relieved and annoyed at the delay.

The Evans family made it to the train itself: a scarlet steam engine that looked almost as if it were brand new despite being outdated.

Petunia was too captivated by it and her vivid imaginings of what would happen next to pay any attention to her family. Her parents hugged her goodbye, and she returned each hug half-heartedly.

Lily clung to her sleeve as she clambered on the train, still babbling excitedly, but Petunia was too preoccupied to spare her sister more than a parting glance before she tugged her arm free.

“See you,” she muttered with a small wave before she set off down the train, not even thinking to wave goodbye to her family when the train set off.

Her trunk was heavy behind her as she dragged it down the corridor, passing compartment after compartment of laughing students. 

There were empty seats in many of the compartments, but Petunia couldn’t work up the nerve to ask anyone if she could share. She was almost at the end of the train when she found a compartment that contained only two people, a boy and a girl, sitting close and holding hands.

A couple. Maybe even soulmates. They were older than Petunia too.

For some reason, they didn’t make her as uneasy as the people in every other compartment, and she found herself knocking before she thought better of it.

“Hello,” the girl said brightly as Petunia slid open the door. “Are you a first year?”

Petunia nodded as the girl’s eyes traveled downward and analyzed Petunia’s lack of robes. Despite what she saw, her smile didn’t fall. Petunia had seen other students in regular clothes. Maybe it wasn’t unheard of among witches and wizards despite the school uniform she’d been told to buy.

“I’m Andromeda,” the girl continued. “This is my boyfriend, Ted.”

Ted smiled and nodded in Petunia’s direction.

“Hello,” he said in a tone no less kind than the one Andromeda had used.

Petunia returned his nod before she stowed her trunk above her seat. She nearly dropped it on herself, which prompted Ted to rush to her aid. Petunia blushed and thanked him as he shoved it safely onto the shelf. She was still flustered as she took her seat, hands clasped in her lap.

“Are you a Muggleborn?” Andromeda asked the second Petunia sat down.

Ted shook his head in exasperation, and Andromeda turned to him quickly, lightly slapping his arm.

“What?” she exclaimed. “I’m not asking because it’s a bad thing. I just want to help her if she is.” She turned to Petunia. “Ted’s a Muggleborn too.”

Ted smiled and nodded at Petunia, whose head was beginning to spin as she tried to keep up without getting confused.

“I’m not a witch at all,” she said quietly.

She regretted the words the second Andromeda’s eyes widened. Ted shook his head beside her, but his smile was fond and there was a twinkle in his eye when he looked at his girlfriend.

“Oh!” Andromeda exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. “A Muggle! Ted, you have to introduce her to Veronica.”

Ted laughed.

“I can if you want me to,” he said to Petunia. “She’s a Muggle in our year and my house. There will likely be a few others in your year too. And the Muggleborn first years will be going through a lot of the same things as you. You’ll have loads of friends before long.”

From his gentle smile, Petunia knew he was trying to calm her. Maybe he’d been as nervous as she was during his first train ride to the school.

“We’ll be your friends too,” Andromeda added, leaning forward. “If anyone messes with you, just tell them you know Andromeda Black.”

Ted grimaced.

“Dromeda’s family is kind of...notorious in the wizarding world.”

Andromeda snorted as she leaned back in her seat.

“That’s one way of putting it,” she said. “But don’t worry her with that, Ted. She doesn’t need to know the sordid details. All you need to know, Petunia, is that no one messes with a Black or one of their friends.”

Petunia returned her smile, more at ease than she had been since waking up that morning.

She could only hope it lasted.

* * *

The sorting and welcome feast were a whirlwind that Petunia could hardly keep up with. She was placed in Slytherin, a house that she quickly assessed wasn’t the best place for a Muggle to be. She sat with a small group of other Muggles in various years at the end of the Slytherin table, where they were pointedly ignored by their other classmates.

The sortings of the other students flew by as Petunia analyzed each and every one and tried to determine who was her soulmate. She thought it would be easy, but it wasn’t. She knew nothing about these people other than what they looked like as they nervously slipped a hat over their head. Nothing made sense.

Petunia hardly slept that night despite how comfortable the bed in her dormitory was.

She got up the next morning thankful that her dormitory was occupied only by other Muggle girls. None of them could be her soulmate, and that knowledge calmed her enough that she got dressed without working herself into a full blown panic attack.

The first years had to be up before the other years in order to meet their soulmates, but it was impossible to feel groggy as Professor Slughorn met them at the entrance to the common room and led their whole year up to the entrance hall.

Dumbledore himself stood in front of the doors to the grounds dressed in robes of a light blue. Petunia watched him with wide eyes as she waited for what would come next.

“Good morning!” he said with a chipper smile once the Gryffindors were the last to arrive. “Each year, I can hardly bear my own excitement over seeing new students find the ones they are destined to be entwined with for a lifetime. I promise not to delay you any longer than necessary.

“When you enter the Great Hall, you will take a seat at your house’s table. Your soulmate will appear across from you no matter where they sat themselves. For half an hour, all you will see is each other. No one else will be able to see or hear you. Use this opportunity to connect with each other but don’t worry about running out of time. Remember, you have the rest of your lives ahead of you.”

His eyes sparkled as he finished.

Petunia focused on controlling her breathing. Sitting down at a table wasn’t difficult. She could do that as well as any witch or wizard.

When the crowd of students began moving, Petunia let herself be carried with them. Her legs trembled as she lowered herself onto the same stretch of bench she’d sat on the night before.

Instantaneously, a girl was across from her. Petunia gasped, and the girl wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“A Muggle,” she muttered.

Petunia swallowed. She remembered seeing this girl during the sorting and being struck by her looks. Her eyes were such a light shade of blue that Petunia imagined she could see through them like the water at a clear beach, and she had a sculpted face that Petunia would have envied if she weren’t too busy being captivated by it. Too bad it was marred by the look of disdain on her face.

“Sorry,” Petunia said, only to immediately hate herself for apologizing for something outside her control.

She remembered enough from the sorting to know the girl in front of her was a Black. Petunia had noted it after meeting Andromeda on the train. Andromeda’s own words about her family weighed heavily on Petunia’s mind as she looked at her soulmate.

“Petunia Evans,” she said, attempting a confident smile and holding out her hand for a shake.

Narcissa regarded her hand cooly until Petunia let it fall.

“Narcissa Black,” she returned stiffly. “I know that you can’t possibly understand what that means, but us Blacks are one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain. We command respect, and that respect is not maintained by marrying Muggles or others of…less agreeable backgrounds.”

Petunia wasn’t sure what to make of such a statement. She was certain there was context that she was missing. As Narcissa had implied, there was much for her to learn about the world she’d been dropped into, but she’d been hoping for warm guidance, not Narcissa’s cold dismissiveness.

“You’re the first Black to have a Muggle soulmate?” Petunia asked, her curiosity almost outweighing her embarrassment.

Narcissa sneered.

“Of course not. Whoever came to tell you about Hogwarts and soulmates spewed off nonsense about love, didn’t they?”

She paused as if waiting for a response, but her gaze was on her fingernails, and Petunia didn’t have anything to say that wouldn’t embarrass her further.

“Two pureblood soulmates can marry,” Narcissa continued. “But when one has a soulmate of a lower status, other arrangements must be made.”

Petunia’s stomach sank.

The idea of having a soulmate, magical or not, had been exhilarating to her when she’d first learned of it. For it to come to this was unbelievable. Without knowing exactly what kind of arrangements Narcissa was suggesting, Petunia could discern enough that she was in danger of being sick right in front of her newly discovered “soulmate”.

Narcissa finally looked up from her nails, but her gaze was distant, as if she weren’t really looking at Petunia at all.

“When the time comes, I will marry a pureblood,” she said. Her words were almost robotic, as if she had memorized and practiced them. “I will produce pureblood heirs just as my duty calls for. You will be at my side of course. My magic would never be complete without you. You are absolutely crucial to my future, but you will never be my wife. That is not the role you are destined to play.”

Petunia stared at her, and Narcissa stared back. Neither girl had any idea what to say beyond that. Petunia was too occupied with fitting all of the pieces of the puzzle together, and Narcissa felt as if she’d said all there was to say. There was no point in conversing further with a Muggle.

She knew of several Muggle soulmates of course, but they’d all learned their place before Narcissa met them. She didn’t know what to make of her own.

“You’ll have access to a Gringotts account of course,” Narcissa continued, more for the sake of ending the silence than anything else. “Your needs will be met. My family has more than enough to provide for your necessities. You needn’t worry about your safety or your future.”

She waved a dismissive hand through the air as if all Petunia’s remaining concerns were settled. Petunia nodded slowly until she finished processing what had been said.

“What if I don’t agree to that?’ she asked. “What if I don’t want your family’s money?”

Narcissa’s eyes widened, which only made them more stunning. Petunia stared at her nose instead to keep herself from getting distracted.

“No one ever refuses,” Narcissa said. “That shouldn’t be a concern.”

Petunia’s stomach tightened. Did people stay because they wanted to? Or was there more to this than Petunia understood? McGonagall had told her she could leave Hogwarts at any time if she wanted to. Had the Deputy Headmistress known then what Petunia’s fate was to be?

Petunia straightened her shoulders. If Narcissa was determined to act indifferent to her, she could do the same. She wouldn’t let her soulmate see just how fearful she was about the hand that had been dealt to her.

“Wouldn’t having me around ruin your perfect pureblood thing? Surely you’d be better off without me than keeping me as a dirty secret.”

Narcissa laughed and shook her head, the first sign of a positive emotion that she’d shown in front of Petunia. It would have made her stunning in different circumstances.

“You won’t be a secret,” Narcissa said. “Don’t misunderstand my words. A number of purebloods have Muggle or Mudblood soulmates. That is to be expected. There are a number of advantages. Those with Muggle soulmates are often the most rational beings within wizarding society. Many of the greatest inventors and keepers of knowledge had Muggle soulmates. It helps when only one of you wields magic; there’s less give and take.”

The two girls stared at each other, neither sure what their next move should be, until the Great Hall reappeared around them.

* * *

It took two days for Andromeda to find her. Two days of pretending like she hadn’t noticed Narcissa when she passed her in the halls. Two days of ignoring the nervous giggles of her classmates whenever they glanced at their own newly found soulmates.

When she hurried up to Petunia in the corridor, Andromeda was more serious than she had been on the train. She wasn’t infected by the same idealism that had taken over Petunia’s classmates. No, she was a woman on a mission as she came to a stop directly in front of Petunia.

“My little sister is your soulmate?”

Though her voice lilted upward at the end, she already knew the answer. Petunia nodded anyway, her eyes glancing down the corridor in case Narcissa appeared. They had their next class, History of Magic, together, but most of Petunia’s classmates had disappeared. The Muggles like Petunia were more than a little intimidated by the older students, especially the ones they’d learned were purebloods. 

Petunia was the only Muggle in her year with a pureblood for a soulmate, and she’d quickly learned that no one envied her for it. Even if they didn’t fully understand the world they’d been dropped into yet, they’d learned that Petunia’s situation was a bad one. As Andromeda stared at her, Petunia could tell that she didn’t envy her either.

“I’m sorry,” she said, slumping against the wall as if she’d run a marathon to reach Petunia. “I don’t know what exactly she said to you the other day, but I know it can’t have been good. Our parents didn’t raise us with modern ideas about Muggles.”

Petunia longed to mirror her and slump against the wall, but something prevented her from doing it. She’d observed everyone around her over the past several days, and it hadn’t escaped her notice that different students carried themselves in different ways. She straightened her shoulders instead, a move that didn’t go unnoticed by Andromeda judging by her raised eyebrow.

“She says she’ll be betrothed to someone else,” Petunia said, sticking her nose into the air to better pretend like she was unaffected. “Is that true?”

Andromeda sighed and rested her head against the stone wall, her eyes fluttering briefly shut.

“Almost definitely,” she said. “There’s nothing planned right now because our parents had to wait to see who her soulmate was, but now… They’re probably searching for a suitable candidate as we speak. Narcissa was supposed to report to them as soon as she learned your identity.”

She gave Petunia a small smile.

“Being a Black means abiding by certain rules. There are a lot of them, but the most important, by far, is the preservation of the blood line. It must remain pure. It’s even in our family motto.”

She snorted as she thought of the words embroidered into the family tapestry.

Petunia wanted to trust Andromeda, but too many questions were running through her mind. Her eyes narrowed as the older girl.

“Ted’s your soulmate, isn’t he?” she asked.

Andromeda nodded with the same sad smile on her lips.

“He’s a Muggleborn!” Petunia exclaimed. She’d learned enough in just two days to know that was hardly better than a Muggle to purebloods. “Why can you marry him if your family is so concerned about pure blood?”

Andromeda didn’t stiffen or grow defensive at the accusation like Petunia had expected her too. Instead, she laughed, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling as she did so.

“Oh, Petunia,” she said, “Ted and I aren’t betrothed. I’m engaged to Rabastan Lestrange, a pureblood who’s already graduated. My family expects me to marry him.”

Petunia sucked in a sharp breath.

“And you’re just going to go along with it?” she questioned, stepping forward with no regard for personal space. “I saw you and Ted together. He cares about you! And you’re just going to marry some pureblood instead.”

“Petunia,” Andromeda snapped, her voice sharper than anything Petunia had heard from her before. She was suddenly scary as she brought herself to her full height and glared down at the younger girl.

“You don’t understand everything yet,” Andromeda said in quiet, clipped tones. Her eyes darted around the corridor, searching for eavesdroppers. “Ted and I plan to run away after graduation. I won’t marry Rabastan, but no one can know that. If my family finds out, it will create more problems for Ted and me.”

Petunia’s heart soared, even as her mind struggled to keep up with her ever changing emotions.

“Really?” she breathed. “Running away? People do that? But then—”

“No, Petunia,” Andromeda said, her gaze once again sympathetic. “It isn’t common. In fact, it’s almost unheard of. Those who run will never see their families again. I’ve accepted that for Ted’s sake, but few do. Narcissa won’t. She cares too much for our family. Our parents are everything to her. She’ll respect their wishes.”

Petunia took several long breaths.

“Even over her soulmate?” she asked.

“Over everything.”

Petunia stared at the older girl. Her eyes and mouth were the same as Narcissa’s, but her nose was larger and more prominent. Petunia tried to imagine what the older Blacks must be like, as they were the source of all her problems. All she could picture were faces like Andromeda’s and Narcissa’s, lined with wrinkles and permanent scowls.

“No one ever runs away,” Petunia muttered to herself.

Andromeda squeezed her shoulder and offered her one last smile before she disappeared down the corridor.

* * *

It took five years for Narcissa’s betrothal to be declared to the rest of society.

That was five years of Petunia being called to Narcissa’s side each time she needed to perform difficult magic. Five years of Petunia learning all she could about the wizarding world and what was expected of her. Five years of longing glances that went ignored and repressed.

Lily started Hogwarts, and things got worse. Lily’s own soulmate was a pureblood but one who was proud to marry a Muggleborn. Petunia was too jealous of her sister’s relationship to even feel satisfied when she learned of Snape’s initial disappointment over it.

By the time the betrothal announcement came, Petunia was prepared for it but no less disappointed to know that it was official.

Lucius Malfoy was a prick, and Petunia knew that even Narcissa could see that. The knowledge that they’d be married was enough to prompt Petunia into action the next time she saw Narcissa, which just happened to be when she was summoned to help her with some potion-brewing practice.

Petunia watched her, Narcissa’s still empty cauldron on the table between them.

“Lucius Malfoy,” was the only thing Petunia could get out.

She wasn’t sure what she actually wanted to say or ask. All she wanted was for Narcissa to acknowledge the marriage was happening. And, perhaps, she also wanted to hear Narcissa express something akin to the distaste Petunia already felt towards the man.

Narcissa, who’d been in the middle of crushing up some beetles, glanced at Petunia with one eyebrow raised.

“My betrothed?” she asked. “Do you really wish to talk about him?”

‘Wish’ wasn’t the word Petunia would have used to describe her feelings, but she wasn’t about to explain the full range of her emotions to Narcissa. That wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“How do you feel about him?” Petunia asked instead, leaning forward until the wood of the table pressed into her abdomen.

Narcissa sat her knife aside to look at her—really look at her. It wasn’t often she did that. Most of the time they were together, Narcissa looked at something near her or gazed through her, but she never looked at her. Petunia had learned to soak in the moments where she felt truly seen.  
She brushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear under Narcissa’s piercing gaze.

“He’s a respectable man,” Narcissa said with a shrug. “He’s everything a pureblood such as myself could hope to find in a husband.”

Petunia narrowed her eyes.

“Have you spoken to him?”

Narcissa picked her knife back up with a huff and began crushing her beetles with too much force.

“Of course I’ve spoken to him. It’s the twentieth century. No family would arrange a marriage without the couple meeting first.”

It was quiet for a second as Petunia stared at Narcissa as she worked. Petunia was thankful, not for the first time, that enough people wanted privacy for magical rituals that the school had granted the space for it. No one interrupted them.

“Do you think you could grow to love him?” Petunia asked, her voice wavering.

Narcissa shook her head slowly, but it wasn’t an act of reassurance.

“Love doesn’t enter into the equation,” she said. “We’ve been over this, Petunia. Love is not what matters in a noble marriage.”

She didn’t turn away from Petunia’s gaze like she usually did when Petunia made her speak of such things. There was something new in the way they looked at each other after the idea that had stood between them became a real person.

“You’ve also said that doesn’t bother you,” Petunia said, pressing her abdomen into the table hard enough to leave a bruise, “but that can’t be true, Narcissa.”

Narcissa’s lips thinned. She leaned back from the table and, by consequence, from Petunia.

“I know how to control my primitive urges,” she said. “We are soulmates, but that does not mean I can’t control myself around you. Some things are more important than any individual’s wants.”

“Then you do feel it?” Petunia asked, clinging to what hope she could find. She rose a millimeter off her chair as she leaned further forward. “You feel what I do?”

Narcissa looked closer to coming undone than Petunia had ever seen her. Her cheeks were a lovely shade of pink that Petunia had seen before when they’d gotten close. Her eyes flickered away from Petunia, landing on the beetles. Her breath shook.

“We’re soulmates,” Narcissa said. “Of course I feel what you do. That’s to be expected. The disagreement comes from our differing opinions on what should come of it.”

Petunia didn’t give herself time to digest Narcissa’s words. The blood rushing through her veins made it impossible to think of anything except Narcissa’s proximity and the way her pupils widened as she stared at Petunia.

Standing from her chair, Petunia pressed a bruising kiss to Narcissa’s lips, not caring about the table littered with beetles between them even though it made the angle awkward and difficult to maintain.

It was messy and unpracticed. Neither girl had attempted such a thing before with anyone, let alone each other. Their inexperience showed as their teeth clashed together, but it didn’t stop them.

Petunia’s body was on fire as Narcissa’s hands reached up to cup her cheeks. Petunia’s own hand clasped Narcisssa’s arm, at least as much to keep herself upright as to touch her.

Eventually, they would have to part, and reality would return for both of them. But for a few minutes, at least, nothing else mattered.

* * *

Most of what Petunia knew about pureblood traditions and Muggle soulmates came from everyone in the castle except Narcissa. During their seven years of school, Narcissa never once made any reference to what she expected of Petunia after school, but Petunia was very aware of it regardless.

She’d be expected to live in Narcissa’s family home, though it wouldn’t be Petunia’s home as much as the place where she happened to live. After all, she had to be on hand for all of Narcissa’s magical needs. As Petunia grew older and learned more about the world, she realized that magical needs weren’t the only reason Muggle soulmates were kept around. But the other parts of the arrangement weren’t as readily shared by the noble families. Talk of it was mostly spread in whispers.

Just thinking about what the future had in store for her made Petunia sick to her stomach.

McGonagall’s words in her parents’ living room all those years ago weighed heavily in her mind.

“She’s free to leave at any time.”

She was. If she chose to leave, no one would be able to stop her, not even Narcissa. They couldn’t hold her hostage without breaking countless laws, and that was one area where the Ministry would have to take Petunia’s side, even against the Blacks.

But no one ever left.

Over the years, Petunia had been outraged to learn that Muggle soulmates almost always put up with the shitty deal their pureblood soulmate offered them. Sometimes they left, but it usually came years later once they’d realized that nothing would change. Everyone tried to make things work first. The lure of a potential relationship with your soulmate, no matter what form that relationship took, was just too appealing for people not to try.

Petunia didn’t want to be one of those people, but she knew she was. There had been countless stolen kisses since their first, and Petunia often dreamed of those short-lived moments when things felt perfect. She couldn’t bring herself to lose them forever.

When Narcissa came to her several months before the end of their seventh year, Petunia knew what it was about, and she was ready with her answer, as much as she despised it.

“You’ll be well provided for,” Narcissa pledged after laying out the offer, her face a carefully controlled mask.

Petunia gave her a thin-lipped smile. She knew that was true in the material sense, but she had long lost any naivety that it would be true in any other way.

“I’ll agree to it,” Petunia said. “But know this, Narcissa: Absolutely nothing can happen between us once you’re married. You using me for magic is bad enough. I refuse to take part in your ridiculous show more than I have to.”

Narcissa stared back, her face an unreadable mask. Her only answer was a stiff nod.


	2. Breaking Through

_Five Years Later_

Petunia kept her steps light as she hurried through the halls of Malfoy Manor. Despite the years she’d lived in the place, she despised it. The walls were tall and imposing and dark objects could be found in the most random of nooks and crannies.

The decor was in varying shades of dark green and black, which made the hall in which Petunia found herself particularly dark in the dim evening light despite the windows that lined it every ten feet. Petunia’s room had been well-stocked with candles to help her navigate, but she’d forgone them in favour of relying on her eyes alone. The boxes of candles that had been regularly left for her had only served as a reminder of her status as the sole Muggle in the house.

She wouldn’t have been outside her rooms at such a late hour at all if Dobby hadn’t revealed that Lucius was otherwise occupied for the night.

Dobby was the house elf whom Petunia got along with the best. At Hogwarts, she hadn’t known about the house elves that dwelled in the kitchens and kept the castle in order, but she had come to enjoy the company of the small group of them at Malfoy Manor. They, at least, treated her like she was better than dirt. She was also confident that they liked her more than their masters. Though Petunia could theoretically give them commands—so long as they weren’t overridden by a witch or wizard—she never did in practice.

Light leaked out from a small sitting room on the second floor, and Petunia’s steps slowed as she approached.

Her excursion had, of course, been undertaken in the hopes of finding Narcissa, but she hadn’t held her breath.

Despite having gotten what she wanted, she hesitated outside the door.

The past five years had been difficult for both of them, full of ups and downs but primarily downs. If she’d thought things were bad at Hogwarts, nothing had prepared her for the strange dynamics that sprung into place once Narcissa was a properly married off pureblood witch.

Though they shared a house, she and Narcissa hardly spoke to each other. Whenever Narcissa fetched Petunia for a spell, she made a concerted effort not to look her in the eyes. Not knowing what else to do, Petunia settled for nothing.

Taking a deep breath, she rapped her knuckles against the door and pushed it open without waiting for an answer. Lucius would have lashed out if he’d seen such behavior from her, but Narcissa didn’t dare do the same. She merely watched as Petunia entered the room and lingered inside the door.

Petunia observed Narcissa’s red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. It was clear that she hadn’t expected anyone to seek her out that night, but Petunia was more thankful than ever that she’d ventured out from her room. Even so, she had no idea what to do next. Her brain wouldn’t let her body do what it wanted, and she was certain Narcissa wouldn’t have allowed it either.

The two women remained still for a long time just looking at each other.

It was the first time in more than a year that Narcissa had actually looked at Petunia, and the hair all over Petunia’s skin stood at attention.

“What’s going on?” Petunia asked suddenly, crossing her arms against her chest. “Why are you in here crying?”

Narcissa let out an undignified snort and wiped her nose with a handkerchief embroidered with the Black family crest. The handkerchief was old and hardly touched since her marriage. There was some long-abandoned knitting in her lap, and she fiddled with one of the needles as Petunia came farther into the room and perched herself on one of the uncomfortable sofas. Though Narcissa was doing her best to keep her face emotionless, her sniffling continued as she began knitting without magic, a skill she’d never allow Lucius to know she had.

“Now that Draco’s been born, Lucius wants nothing to do with me,” Narcissa said, her voice as emotionless as her face despite her tears. “He spends all of his time with _her_ , but that’s to be expected. Everyone always says that men are incapable of controlling their base urges. I’ll move past it just as countless wives have before me.”

Petunia frowned at her, but Narcissa was too occupied with her knitting to glance up.

“Her” was Lucius’ own soulmate, a Muggleborn named Eva who occupied the room next to Petunia’s. Though Eva wasn’t worthy of marrying a pureblood either, her and Lucius’ relationship had taken a very different route than Petunia and Narcissa’s. That much had been apparent from the moment Petunia met Eva.

It was to be expected perhaps. They’d had several years together in the Manor before Narcissa and Petunia had entered the picture.

Petunia’s lips tightened as a loud sob broke free from Narcissa. She didn’t look up from her knitting as her body began to shake.

“Why did you marry him, Narcissa?” Petunia asked in a whisper, shaking her head. “You knew this would happen. Why agree to it?”

Narcissa’s glare as she finally looked up from her knitting made Petunia shrink backwards, afraid that she might have pushed Narcissa too far. But she hadn’t. Of course, she hadn’t. No matter how much she pushed, Narcissa never reached her breaking point. Part of Petunia wanted her to, but nothing ever changed.

Instead of the fire Petunia expected, Narcissa’s shoulders slumped once more.

“I regret it,” she whispered. “I do.”

She took a long, shaky breath as she looked Petunia in the eyes. Petunia didn’t dare move; she hardly dared to breathe.

“When I envisioned the future, I knew it would be difficult, but I thought that fulfilling my duty would be enough. I would be happy and proud that I was fulfilling my rightful duty. I was wrong, Petunia. I was very wrong. I’ve hurt both of us, and I’m sorry.”

The two women stared at each other for a long time, tears making Narcisa’s bright blue eyes shine in the dim light of the fire. Petunia longed to close the gap between them, but she couldn’t bridge it, not after five years of careful distance.

“If it weren’t for Draco,” Narcissa continued, blotting at her face with her handkerchief, ”I’d leave with you right now. I swear I would, but I can’t, Petunia. I can’t leave my son.”

She broke into sobs, and Petunia couldn’t take it any longer. She reached out and took Narcissa’s hand. Narcissa let out an audible sigh when they touched but didn’t otherwise acknowledge Petunia’s actions.

“I’d never ask you to leave Draco,” Petunia said, squeezing Narcissa’s hand again to emphasize her words. “He’s done nothing wrong, and we both know he’s better off with you than his father.”

If the last few months had proven anything, it was that Lucius Malfoy did not care much for being a parent. He needed an heir, of course, and he cared for Draco in his own way. Petunia was willing to admit that much. But he didn’t know how to care for a child, and he didn’t care to learn.

Narcissa stared at Petunia, her mouth hanging open. It was the first time in a long time that Petunia had left her speechless, and despite the weight of the situation, Petunia was proud to see that she still held some sway over her soulmate. Years without so much as fingertips brushing against each other had made her forget how invirograting it was.

Before she could say anything else, Narcissa leaned forward and closed the space between them. In the split second before their lips touched, Petunia’s mind went into overdrive, but once they were kissing, she lost the ability to think of anything except Narcissa’s touch.

No matter how long it had been, the kiss was familiar, and both women sunk into it easily.

Nothing about the reality of their situation had changed. Petunia knew she was violating every rule she’d been strict about over the years, and she would hate herself for that later. But in the present, she couldn’t have cared less.

In the present, she had Narcissa pressed against her again, and nothing else mattered.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was one of the masked men who the _Daily Prophet_ was calling Death Eaters. The paper claimed they destroyed the homes of Muggleborns and killed Muggles on behalf of You-Know-Who. Petunia wasn’t supposed to know what Lucius got up to when he disappeared from the house late at night, but there was no other explanation that made sense. His mistress, after all, was well accounted for.

His “friends” began visiting the manor with greater frequency, and Petunia couldn’t help but overhear parts of their conversations. No one told her anything directly, but they were never concerned about her overhearing them either. After all, she was Narcissa’s soulmate, and Muggle soulmates never betrayed the witch or wizard they were bound to. Petunia supposed that idea extended to the spouse of one’s soulmate too no matter how little affection he inspired.

In a way, Lucius’ friends were right. Petunia didn’t tell anyone what she heard about Lucius torturing Muggles before he crawled into bed with his Muggleborn lover.

She wanted to tell someone; she wanted to believe that Lucius would face justice if the truth was revealed. But she knew her movements were being tracked, and even if the Ministry apprehended Lucius, he had plenty of friends ready to avenge him. Narcissa wouldn’t be enough to stop them if she’d even try.

While Lucius’ friends gathered at Malfoy Manor, it would have been smarter for Petunia to stay tucked away in her room, safe from the anger and abuse she knew they were capable of, but such gatherings were also some of the few times she and Narcissa could be together without any fear of being interrupted, and Petunia frequently couldn’t let herself stay away.

Narcissa’s pull on her was too strong. Petunia was even willing to tiptoe right past the room where Lucius had congregated with his friends instead of going down a floor to avoid it.

She paused as she approached the door, unable to quell her curiosity when she was already there. There was no telling what they were talking about, but no one had bothered to put a silencing charm on the door, as if Petunia needed more proof that they didn’t see her as capable of being a threat.

“Not that I’m against going after the Potters, mind you.”

Petunia gasped before pressing a hand over her mouth in horror. Thankfully, none of the Death Eaters gave any indication they’d heard her in the hallway. Petunia waited a moment before taking another step towards the door, determined to learn why her sister’s family had caught the group’s attention.

“All I’m saying,” the same man continued, “is I wish we knew what they’d done. What makes them special? They’re just two of Dumbledore’s minions. They’re a Mudblood and a blood traitor and not even the best he has.”

If for different reasons, Petunia wondered the same thing. She had only traded a handful of letters with Lily since she left school, and their correspondence had died off completely in the last couple of years. She had discerned for herself that Lily must have joined the group that people whispered about Dumbledore creating, but Lily hadn’t trusted her enough to share that information personally. And Petunia couldn’t imagine her little sister being a significant player in a group that was also said to include the likes of Dumbledore and Alastor Moody.

“That’s not for us to bother with, Goyle,” Lucius drawled. “The Dark Lord has his reasons, and the family must be dealt with. It’s not our place to question him with whys.”

“I’m not questioning him,” Goyle said, the rise of his voice hinting that he was anxious about being labelled a troublemaker. “I’ve got no problem killing Mudbloods. Everyone here knows that.”

“You’re forbidden from killing _this_ Mudblood, Goyle.”

Petunia’s lips thinned.

It was Narcissa’s sister Bellatrix. Petunia had little direct experience with her, but she knew enough to know that she was wildly different from both Narcissa and Andromeda. There was a ferocity to her that she put to terrifying uses. She was someone Petunia had quickly learned to avoid at all costs. She’d had her suspicions that Bellatrix was more involved in Lucius’ Death Eater business than Narcissa was, but she had never before found proof of it.

“I know,” Goyle said defensively. “These ones are for the Dark Lord to take care of himself. I can follow instructions, Malfoy. What I was saying was I don’t care if they die. I even want to watch if he’ll let me. I always enjoy a good show.”

Several of the others laughed while Petunia clenched her hands into fists in the hall. She wanted to storm inside and tell them off, but of course, she couldn’t. They had wands; she had a soulmate in a different part of the manor who wouldn’t want to cause trouble.

She couldn’t even intervene in less direct ways. Any letter she sent to the Potters would be intercepted before it left the manor grounds. Petunia had long hoped that was why Lily had stopped writing.

She backed away from the door, unable to stomach anything more.

She trembled as she hurried to Narcissa’s room, which was farther down the hall and up a smaller staircase that led only to the larger, more private bedrooms.

She threw open her lover’s door without concern for propriety and nearly slammed it shut with a surge of repressed fear. It didn’t matter if she was heard. With Lucius downstairs, there was no one around to hear them even if they shouted.

Petunia’s heart raced as she leaned against the door, her chest heaving. Her gaze focused on Narcissa as if she’d already known where she would be. She was sitting on a chaise lounge in front of the fireplace, where a low fire still burned. Her thin robe draped across her figure in a way that Petunia typically found alluring, but in that moment, she hardly noticed it.

The Death Eater’s conversation lingered in her mind, making her feel dirty for having heard it.

“Petunia,” Narcissa said slowly, rising from her lounge. “Is something the matter?”

She approached Petunia like one would a startled cat, but Petunia had no intention of running. She knew that, with those men in the house, Narcissa’s room was one of the safest places for her, and she had no intentions of ruminating over what she heard alone.

“Lily,” she said, her voice cracking. She swallowed and tried again. “I heard them talking downstairs. The Dark Lord wants the Potters; he wants Lily. They’re a target.”

She didn’t fully grasp how panicked she was until she began talking and realized it was difficult to breathe. Narcissa’s brow furrowed as she stood in front of her, boxing her against the door in a way that felt strangely comforting. Her hands trailed up and down along Petunia’s arms.

Petunia began to cry. Narcissa’s hands traveled to her face, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. Petunia couldn’t look her in the face anymore as her tears refused to stop flowing.

She’d hardly spoken to Lily in years. Even at Hogwarts, they’d kept their distance from each other. If someone had asked her under less vulnerable conditions, Petunia would have said she hardly cared for her sister, yet the fear that had encased her heart hinted that things were more complicated than that.

With her vision blurred by tears, she didn’t realize what Narcissa was doing until their lips were pressed together. She pushed against Narcissa’s shoulders until she pulled away with a frown on her lips.

“We have to do something,” Petunia said weakly, still pressing against Narcissa’s shoulders. “They’re going to hurt Lily. Maybe the baby. We have to do something.”

Narcissa’s frown deepened as she stared at Petunia. Her hand found Petunia’s hair again, playing with the loose strands that framed her face.

“There’s nothing to do,” she whispered. “We don’t stand a chance against the Dark Lord. What he wants is final.”

Petunia pushed her away with a growl and stomped towards the fireplace, staring into the flames until they burned her eyes.

“There has to be something!” she exclaimed, twirling around to face Narcissa, who remained in front of the door. “We can’t stand by and let my little sister die.”

Narcissa shook her head as she approached slowly, one foot in front of the other. She came to a stop with the chaise lounge between them.

“Don’t underestimate the Dark Lord’s power, Petunia. You’ll wind up dead yourself.”

Silence hung in the air between them long enough for Petunia to start counting her breaths. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Narcissa took one more step forward, placing one hand on the back of the lounge and purposefully letting her dressing gown slip down her shoulder.

“Petunia, there’s nothing for us to do. Let me distract you.”

She reached out a hand, but Petunia swatted it away, her face contorting in anger.

“No,” she said. “No, I can’t. Not when…”

She trailed off, unable to put her worst fears into words that would make them even more potent. She didn’t look at Narcissa as she pushed past her and out the room. Perhaps another trek across the manor wasn’t the safest of options, but in that moment, it felt like the only option she had.

* * *

For the next couple of weeks, Petunia hardly saw Narcissa. She kept to her rooms as much as possible, hardly conversing with anyone who wasn’t one of the house elves. Occasionally, she spoke to Eva, but their conversation was stilted. Eva was too wrapped up in Lucius’ affection to stop and think about his actions despite being a Muggleborn herself. Sometimes, Petunia found it difficult to even look at her.

She slept uneasily, with nightmares haunting her every night. Narcissa could have provided potions to help calm her mind, but Petunia refused to ask for them. And, whether because of a slip of the mind or irritation, Narcissa didn’t reach out to offer them.

It had been one such restless night when Petunia realized that the hands grasping at her in her dreams were, in fact, real hands. She shot up in bed, gasping with fear at the figure hovering above her.

Narcissa didn’t shrink away, and Petunia slumped against her pillows as she recognized her soul mate’s form even in the darkness of night. Narcissa also didn’t let go of Petunia’s shoulders, though she no longer shook her. Petunia stared at her, the moonlight reflecting off the blue of her eyes.

“What is it?” Petunia asked, her breathing ragged.

Narcissa bit her lip, her fingers tightening around Petunia as she spoke.

“The Potters are gone. The Dark Lord killed them.”

When the announcement came, Petunia had expected to cry or shout. She had been angry for so long that it would have been fitting for her to finally explode.

She didn’t.

She stared at Narcissa as if she hadn’t understood her, but she had. She’d understood loud and clear, and she felt the full weight of what Narcissa had told her. But after weeks of anticipation, she found that she didn’t have much of a reaction to give.

It was just another fact of life. She was a soulmate who would never be seen as an equal. Purebloods would always fight for control. You-Know-Who had murdered another Muggleborn.

Those were all facts Petunia couldn’t change.

“The whole family?” she asked.

Narcissa stared at her for a long time, analyzing her reaction. Petunia knew that she didn’t understand it, but she didn’t bother to explain as she waited for the answer. She shook her head slowly, making Petunia’s heart rise to her throat.

“They’ve said that the boy survived,” Narcissa said in a detached voice, like she hadn’t yet processed this part of the story either. “Petunia, the Dark Lord is gone. He tried to kill the baby, and instead, he was vanquished himself. No one knows how it happened. Lucius and the others are in the sitting room pointing fingers at each other, but no one has claimed responsibility. We can’t go out there.”

Petunia hardly even heard the part about Lucius. Her thoughts had fixated only on the fate of Lily’s young son.

“Harry survived?” she asked in a raspy voice. “How?”

“I don’t know!” Narcissa exclaimed. “No one does.”

“Where is he?”

Narcissa took a deep breath, her eyes mournful.

“None of them,” Petunia knew she meant the Death Eaters, “will go near the house. They left the boy there. Dumbledore or someone will have gotten him by now.”

Petunia pressed a hand over her racing heart. At first, she’d almost expected Harry to have been brought to the manor with the Death Eaters. The possibility had thrilled her before she considered what that would mean in regards to his fate.

Logically, she knew he was better off with Dumbledore or any of his parents’ friends than he was with her, but for the first time, she felt a drive to do something. She hadn’t taken much time to consider him before, thinking primarily of Lily when she thought of the family at all. Suddenly, she cared immensely.

She was his closest living relative. She knew James Potter’s parents had died not a month after Harry was born; that had been in the last of Lily’s letters. Though Sirius Black was his godfather, Petunia didn’t trust him after what he’d gotten up to in school.

Her daydreams about what the future might hold if she got ahold of Harry took over her thoughts, blotting out the present reality. Narcissa’s hand gripping her arm brought her back to the present.

Narcissa leaned over her. Her eyes were wide, irises hardly visible behind her dilated pupils. Petunia had only seen her so disheveled when they were both undressed.

“Petunia,” she said, “do you realize what this means? The Dark Lord is gone. Dumbledore has won. All those who supported the Dark Lord will be put on trial. Lucius…”

She trailed off, shaking her head. The sudden change in their circumstances had overwhelmed her. Instead of continuing, she took to staring at Petunia, who stared back with a frown.

“You think they’ll be sent to Azkaban?” Petunia asked. “Their identities were a secret, and Malfoys never face consequences. I’d have assumed you’d figured that out by now.”

Petunia was far too aware of that truth to think it would change now, but Narcissa nodded, her expression one of pure determination.

“I know every single soul who stepped foot in this house for the last five years,” she said.

Petunia stared at her, her lips slightly parted. Something had overcome Narcissa and changed her over the course of that night. Petunia wondered about the Death Eaters several floors below them, fighting with each other as their lives unraveled. Had their sense of desperation reached Narcissa too?

“You’d be willing to testify against them?” Petunia asked. “Even though you know they would come after you? Would you turn in your sister?”

Narcissa didn’t answer with words. She kissed Petunia hard on the lips. Petunia, still overwhelmed with emotion, kissed back. It was tempting to lose themselves and ignore the chaos around them. She wished they could have done it forever, but far too soon, Narcissa pulled away.

“Yes,” she said with a short nod of her head.

Petunia blinked at her, taking several seconds to realize that it was an answer to her previous question.

She stared at Narcissa for a long moment. There was hesitation in her eyes. She wasn’t confident in her answer. She was utterly terrified. While Narcissa was plenty of things, Petunia never would have called her brave. Looking at her in that moment, she couldn’t say with confidence that she expected Narcissa to do anything of the sort.

That didn’t stop her from leaning forward and kissing her like she believed her.


End file.
